


The Great Trouser Snatching

by AriesAscending



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, And Reader jokes about bondage, And not able to handle Gaster's cuteness, But you're worried about him, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gaster doesn't know how to take care of himself, Gaster has bad habits, Gaster is a bit of a flirt, Gaster is a workaholic, Gaster talks about getting into his pants briefly, Gaster's got a cute laugh and you can't tell me otherwise, Gen, How did he escape the Void?, It's not how it sounds, M/M, Magic, Multi, Post-accident W. D. Gaster, Reader IS very sneaky however, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader has no defined gender, Reader just wants him to relax for a bit, Same Reader, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Slightly inappropriate in a place or two?, Stress, The Void, What is his project?, You don't mean anything by it tho, You steal Gaster's pants, and that's okay, insert mission impossible theme here, lemme know if I should change the rating?, so i'm rating it T just in case lmao, surprise! you're roommates, who knows - Freeform, you're a little creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesAscending/pseuds/AriesAscending
Summary: It's really not what it looks like.(In which you steal Gaster's pants because you want him to take a day off work, dang it, and it comes back to bite you in the butt. You only regret it a little.)





	The Great Trouser Snatching

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this prompt:   
>  "Person A, with the pure intention of getting Person B to take a break from work, hides all of Person B's pants while they're sleeping. (And I mean all of them, since B sleeps without them and is shameless enough to wear pants to work.)   
> (A: you've just been working so hard. you should stay home with me.  
> (B: ...i don't think anyone i've ever known has gone this far to get me out of my pants.)

 

You never thought you’d stoop so low as to steal all your roommate’s pants, yet here you are, at three in the morning, carefully pushing the door to his room open slowly so as not to make the hinges squeak. It’s a struggle with a door that hasn’t been properly maintained in eons, but neither of you have time for something as menial as door maintenance in your daily lives, which is a crying shame, because if you’d taken some time to slather some coconut oil onto the hinges (you read it helped somewhere online) when you complained about it a week ago, maybe you could sneak into his room with less worry about being caught.

Granted, you wouldn’t have to worry about  _ being caught  _ if you weren’t  _ sneaking into his room  _ in the first place to  _ steal all his pants,  _ but you had a wholesome reason, honestly! Your roommate and beloved friend Doctor Gaster had a habit of working himself to exhaustion, repeatedly, for days on end- that is to say, he was what you’d call a  _ workaholic.  _ Nothing could stop this man from working on whatever project he’d fixated himself on.  _ Nothing.  _ Not even the stress of falling asleep  _ in  _ his project, which probably went against, like, fifty safety regulations.

This man was also one who took himself  _ very seriously,  _ and it could be above two hundred degrees and he would still wear a turtleneck and pants, as long as he got to keep working. Heck, he’d go in his  _ pyjamas  _ if he had to! (And he had, once, and had suffered it with great dignity, the magnificent being he is. He even let you take a few pictures.)

So the question was: how do you get a man who takes his appearance and his work more seriously than his health to take a day off? 

And apparently your answer to that was to steal all his pants, which was… both genius and sorta creepy, but you digress! You were sick and tired of having to haul his boney butt home after he’d collapsed at work, and honestly, the amount of coffee he was ingesting to keep himself running would kill a human.

You would know. You Googled it.

And it’s not like you were doing this to prank him or anything! You were genuinely worried, and you had run out of things to do to get him to relax. This was your absolute last resort! (Short of, perhaps, just tying him to the bed, but let’s face it, when given the choice between stealing all his pants and bondage, you’ll take stealing his pants.)

So really, there was absolutely no reason you should feel guilty or creepy for sneaking into his room to steal his clothes. 

On that note, you really ought to pay more attention to what you’re doing, because while you’re lost in your thoughts, you lean a little too heavily on the door. It gives a hideous squealing noise that makes the hair on your neck stand on end and sends your already racing heart right up into your throat. The figure on the bed stirs slightly, and you all but throw yourself to the carpeted floor to avoid the possibility of being seen. There’s a burning in your palms, knees, and elbows that tells you that you probably just gave yourself some rug burn, but you’ll worry about that later.

You do your best to keep your breathing steady as you crane your neck up, staring wide-eyed and half-blind into the darkness at the snuffling shape. You’re ready for that shape to lean over the edge of the bed any moment now, white eyelights flaring in the darkness of the room as he incredulously demands what on earth you’re doing crawling around in his bedroom, probably kicking you out for being a creep.

Thankfully, it seems he was only looking for a more comfortable position, because after a short eternity of anxiety- in which you’re certain you’ve done irreparable damage to your heart and brain- he settles once more, letting out a content murmur. You take a moment to mentally coo over how absolutely adorable he can be when he’s sleeping before you snap back to the task at hand. You’re on a mission now, soldier, stay focused!

You pick yourself up off the floor, taking a moment to silently wince as you rub your stinging palms together ( _ definitely rug burn,  _ you lament) and shift into a comfortable kneeling position- you don’t quite trust standing up just yet, and besides, he keeps all his pants in the lower drawers like a nerd. 

With this thought in mind, you carefully inch across the floor, keeping low to the carpet. You’re mindful of the way you rest your weight and do your best to keep your clothes from scraping the carpet too much. You’re… honestly kind of bad at this sneaking around business, but he hasn’t woken up yet, so you suppose you’re doing an okay job? Who knows. You’ll only be satisfied once all his pants are safely tucked away where he can’t possibly find them. 

The crawl across his floor comes to an end a millenia later, and you’re really starting to wonder whether or not this was a good idea  _ yet again,  _ but you’ve come this far and you’re already reaching into the ( _ oh-so-slowly, oh-so-carefully opened drawer)  _ so you decide that yes, it’s probably too late to turn back now and, though you don’t know how yet, it’s a good idea. You begin moving the pants from their confines to the bag you’d brought with you with the same delicate hand you’ve attempted to treat the rest of this operation with.

When you’ve emptied that, you briefly check the rest of his drawers to ensure you haven’t missed any- no briefs here, thank goodness- and snag his pyjama pants from his closet. He only wears the long ones in winter; otherwise, it’s respectable bone-printed shorts for Dr. G. You stuff the pyjamas in your bag with a muffled chuckle and quickly make your way back to his door, picking your way out his door with far more tact than you entered with.

Gaster doesn’t stir anymore, and you slink off to your room to hide them, permitting yourself a sly chuckle as you go. Point for the Roomie. Teach him not to work himself into the ground! 

You hide the pilfered pants in the back of your closet, behind copious untouched boxes and dropped clothes you should probably pick up at some point. You use them as a convenient cover up for the evidence of your heinous crimes, letting out one more giggle as you finally crawl into bed. You’re really looking forward to tomorrow.

 

Gaster normally wakes up anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour before you, usually based on how much sleep he got the night before, so you’re not surprised when you’re woken up by a gentle hand shaking your shoulder and a familiar voice urging you awake. You groan unhappily, swatting at his hand irritably and trying to burrow further into your covers in an attempt to escape him.

Gaster, of course, does not let this stop him, as he merely tugs the blankets off you with inhuman strength, speaking over the sound of your whining protests. “I know it’s early, my dear, but this is important. I can’t seem to find my pants, and I have to be at work in thirty minutes.” He’s clearly very distraught, and this fact makes you feel guilty, of course, but you push that down. It’s really for his own good; his project can wait.

“Weird,” you mutter, trying to curl up again.

With a groan, he reaches down and gently pulls you into a sitting position, kneeling on the bed in front of you. “Please, do you have any idea where they could be? I already checked all over my room, and in the laundry.”

“Sure they didn’t just walk away?” you joke, giggling tiredly at your own joke as you rub your eyes.

He rolls his eyelights, clearly fighting down a grin at your words. He puts on a very serious face, sternly informing you, “I have to go in today. There’s so much paperwork to be done-”

You place a hand over his mouth, which, amazingly enough, actually makes him stop talking. You squint at him, moving your hands up to frame his face. “G. Do you  _ not  _ have interns and assistants for doing paperwork for you?” He opens his mouth to protest, so you talk over him. “And! You told me last night- these are your words, I swear- that you were done with all the important things. All the little adjustments, the last minute details; everything is in order, and all that’s left to be done is…” You pat his cheek lightly, grinning at his stupefied look. Clearly he doesn’t remember that, which you don’t doubt- he was pretty tired. “Paperwork. That you have fellow scientists to do.”

He squirms, clearly trying to come up with something. You sigh softly, rubbing your thumb under his sockets to soothe him. “I know your work is important to you. I know how much you love doing this, but Gast, you’re wearing yourself out. You’re so tired nowadays, and you’ve got these big bags under your eyes, and…” You blush slightly, looking away. “You’re never home. I hardly see you anymore, except for when I drag you home in the evening. So, maybe, just this once… you could take a day off. Relax. With me.”

You really hope you don’t sound too pathetic, but it’s true. You don’t ever see him, and you really, really miss your best friend. It’s lonely without his sharp wit and gentle disposition, or his presence in the kitchen cooking dinner next to you or watching some crappy movie on the couch. 

“My friend…” He murmurs, sockets softening into that familiar look you adore. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his forehead on yours and closing his sockets. He looks so tired and regretful. “I’m sorry. It seems I really have been neglecting you, hmm?” 

Scoffing, you flick his cheek gently, prompting him to meet your irritated gaze. “You bonehead! I didn’t just mean me! You’ve been neglecting yourself too! If it weren’t for me and your coworkers, you wouldn’t ever eat! You need to take better care of yourself, stupid! Ugh, no wonder I had to steal all your pants to make you take a break.”

It takes you a moment to realize what you’ve just done, and you feel the color drain from your face, heart dropping into your stomach. Gaster pulls away from you slowly, realization in his eyelights and wow, you really hope that’s amusement in there and not mania, because you kind of want to wither into nonexistence and die. 

The blood previously rushing away from your face comes back full force as you scramble to explain yourself. “It’s just! I know you love work and I know that, you know, appearances and dignity are important, and I knew that if you had your pants you’d never listen to me-” His head is bowed, shoulders shaking, and your voice raises an octave with panic. “-So I snuck into your room last night while you were sleeping? And raided them? But I swear it was with only good intentions, I’m not trying to be creepy, I just wanted you to relax and-”

He can’t seem to contain himself any longer. Gaster breaks into full, belly-deep laughter, a kind of amusement you haven’t seen from him in so long it leaves you stunned. He absolutely  _ loses it,  _ wrapping his arms around his ribs and falling sideways on the bed. His long legs come up and he all but curls around you, shocked still but with a goofy grin on your face. You had expected a lot of reactions when he found out what you’d done, but riotous laughter had not been at the top of them. You’re an awful mixture of relieved and embarrassed, watching fondly as he cackles.

It takes a while for him to calm down, but when he does, he sits up again, moving forward to wrap an arm around you and gently nuzzling your head. He’s still laughing a little, warm amusement and affection in his voice as he says, “I should have known it was you. How else would all of them have gone missing?” He pulls away to raise an eye ridge at you, no less amused. “Why pants, of all things? You could just have easily taken my shirts or something.”

“Well- Uh- It- Look, it was just the first thing that came to mind, okay?” you whine, playfully shoving his jaw.

Gaster chuckles again, turning his head into your hand briefly. He stands with some difficulty, smirking at you. “I think this must be the most elaborate attempt at getting into my pants I’ve ever encountered,” he drawls, looking immensely satisfied when you let out a mortified squawking noise and cover your face, which is now beet red. He doesn’t give you a chance to refute the statement, conversationally adding, “I’m going to go call in, I think, and then I’ll make us breakfast. I think pancakes and bacon should suffice.”

He pets your head, far too delighted with your glowing countenance. “Do hurry and join me, dearest. It would seem we have the day all to ourselves.” He throws you a wink and strides out the door, leaving you to scream into your bed, covers over your head. 

You’re not sure who won this round...

**Author's Note:**

> Not pictured here: Gaster, covering is face as he kneels outside their door, blushing and screaming internally


End file.
